


Sleepless

by Foreversfangirl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Disturbing dreams, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Processing Trauma, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29927832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foreversfangirl/pseuds/Foreversfangirl
Summary: Boba comforts you through a bad night
Relationships: Boba Fett/Reader
Kudos: 16





	Sleepless

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr, where most of my star wars writing is published first, under the name Starlightrows.   
> This story is extremely personal to me. This past summer I purchased my first car, and drove it up to college for my senior year. On the first day I had it up there, I got into a violent car accident and totaled the car. The last 6 months have been an ongoing process of dealing with the physical, and mental/emotional consequences of surviving a trauma. On Friday night I was driving home from work, in my new vehicle, and I was almost in another collision exactly the same as the previous one. I’ve taken quite a few steps forward since the initial accident, but this near miss has really knocked me back more than I am even ready to admit to myself. So this fic really is just me, processing what I’m going through, and giving myself the emotional support I wish I had to help me cope in real life.

My heart is pounding in my chest and my whole body is flushed and sweaty. I tear myself out of sleep, unable to take another second of seeing, feeling, or hearing the sounds that plague my mind and crowd my dreams. I open my eyes, the room is dim, illuminated only from the night of the full moon coming through the window. The desert air is chilly and bites at my overheated skin. Beside me Boba is sound asleep, looking peaceful in his slumber. I don’t often get to wake up beside him, he’s such an early riser, and I’m… well… not. 

I really want to be able to slide closer to him, nestle myself in his arms and fall back asleep for the remaining few hours I have him to myself, but the mere thought of falling asleep again has my heart hammering away against my rib cage. I can feel myself getting worked up and upset, but I refuse to interrupt Boba’s rest. I have to take care of him, especially when he works so hard to provide for me. It’s the least I can do, to give him the peace and quiet he deserves to sleep. 

So I slip out of bed as silently as I can, and wrap my robe around myself. My feet carry me out of our bedroom, and I find myself directionlessly turning down hallways and ducking into open doors as my breathing starts to get shallow and gaspy. I feel like I’m trying to escape something, but there is nothing to fear… just the impending panic that follows me like a dark cloud. 

Finally I find myself in the kitchens, vaguely I think to myself about making a cup of caf. But instead my knees give out, and I am forced to sit against the cabinets and ride out this storm of terror and bone shaking sobs that wrack my body. I cry so hard I feel as though I may start gagging, or potentially crack a rib from the pressure. I can only hope I made it far enough away from our room so Boba won’t wake up. 

Realistically I know that Boba would so much rather I have woken him up in bed on purpose, and asked him for help. But in my sleep deprived, broken mind, that is unthinkable. I sit with my head in my hands, unable to stop the ugly moaning sobs that have more control over my body than my brain does. The wild, untamed, intrusive thoughts and fears and exaggerations of my suffering roll over and over in my mind. Unrelenting in their torturous presence. 

The sound of footsteps breaks the feedback loop of fear, and fresh tears stain my cheeks. Boba is coming into the kitchen on swift feet, immediately dropping down in front of me. I’m so embarrassed he’s found me in this state, and so upset I’ve woken him up. 

“I’m sorry,” I sob 

“Cyare,” his low rumbling voice seeps into my soul 

“M’ sorry… so sorry… I’m sorry,” I keep repeating, unable to look him in the eye. He catches my wrists in a firm, yet loving grip. 

“Cyare, please. It pains me to see you this way,” he says “And it pains me more when you run and hide when you’re suffering so greatly” 

I can’t bring myself to speak. I launch myself into his arms and allow the pain to flow through me. I sob and shake until my body is completely worn out. Boba shifts me slightly, wrapping my legs about his hips and rocks me gently. One arm locks around my back, holding securely to his chest, while the other cradles the back of my head and tangles his fingers in my hair. He whispers sweet things to me. 

When the sobs seem to have fully subsided, and I’ve calmed down enough. He stills his rhythmic rocking, but continues to massage my scalp. 

“Cyare, I know this isn’t easy. And I know these things take time, and patience to heal. But I must ask you, don’t shut me out of this,” his words are gentle and sincere, but his tone is serious. 

“I feel so helpless Boba. I feel like everything is out of control. I am so afraid of it happening again, I can’t sleep,” I want to start crying again, but there truly is nothing left in my body to cry out. So I cling to him, and keep my eyes squeezed shut as my head rests on his shoulder. “I feel so weak. I’m not strong enough….” 

“That’s okay,” he says “You don’t have to be strong every single day. Let me be strong for you when you’re feeling weak. Let me help you through the harder days,” 

I don’t say anything, but I squeeze him gently with my arms and legs. Boba resumes his rocking. I know he can not promise me that nothing bad or scary will ever happen to me again. I know he can not take away what has already happened. I know he can’t prevent me from having bad nights, and rough days. But I know in my heart, he wants to do this for me. Be strong for me. Protect me in the ways he can. He wants to help me heal, and grow.

“Can I take you back up to bed Cyare?” He asks. I wonder if he can feel my heartbeat quicken. 

“Will you stay with me?” I ask. I hate how childlike I sound in this moment. But it’s really what I need from him right now. Sleep would befall me eventually, even if I try to avoid it. What I really need is just to be held. 

“Of course,” he says carefully beginning to start the process of standing the both of us up “I’ll stay until you wake up again if you’d like” 

He’s got me tucked back in bed before I even realize we’ve left the kitchen. Perhaps I’m already fading back into sleep. He climbs in beside me once more, and brings me to his chest so I can hear the steady beat of his heart. In the back of my mind, I still want to resist sleep. Sleep is where the vividness of my memories live and haunt me. But with Boba’s firm embrace, and his promise of love and support, the wall of fear seems less high. And I feel a little stronger. Strong enough to allow my body to rest.


End file.
